


oh, what a shame (that you came here with someone)

by girl0nfire



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dream Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Multiple Selves, no really but where did all these buckys come from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl0nfire/pseuds/girl0nfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Steve’s sure that he’s dreaming now, hell, he <i>would</i> be the kind of guy who folded his clothes in his own dreams, but none of that matters anyway, not when there are four hands tracing patterns on his skin now – three flesh, one smooth, warm metal – two sets of lips pressing kisses everywhere they can reach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh, what a shame (that you came here with someone)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flash0flight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flash0flight/gifts).



The shower’s already on, the noise of it echoing out of the small tiled bathroom, door half-open, and Steve can hear the rhythm of the water in the entryway, just like he can see the trail of Bucky’s uniform littering the hallway in front of him, shed in pieces as he’d made his way in. Stepping over Bucky’s puddled vest and pants, kicking his boots out of the way, Steve sheds his own uniform and stops to fold it, dropping it on the arm of the couch as he passes and setting the shield next to it. 

Entering the bathroom, he strips off his underwear, leaving them to lie on the floor and pushing back the curtain, stepping under the water and sliding in front of Bucky, unaware with his eyes closed under the spray. Steve lets the water hit his face for a moment, dipping his head so it can work away the day’s tension already knotting up in his neck, but it’s only a moment before Bucky’s pressing against his back, nuzzling at his neck as he reaches around Steve on the pretense of looking for the soap only to give up and fit his hands around Steve’s hips instead.

Bucky makes a small noise, somewhere in the back of his throat, pulling at him until Steve turns in his grip, facing him, letting himself get caught up in the kind of kiss that comes at the end of long days, longer nights, days and sometimes weeks of being too far apart. Steve leaves his eyes open, watching the water run in rivulets down Bucky’s cheeks, catching in his eyelashes as he licks into Steve’s mouth, his fingers digging into the Steve’s skin. His hair hangs water-heavy around his shoulders, and Steve lets his hands travel up Bucky’s sides, across his chest, watching streams of water split gracefully around his fingertips and then rejoin as they rush down Bucky’s body, before finally tangling his fingers in the waves at the back of Bucky’s neck.

Another noise, approving, and Bucky leans into Steve’s grasp, letting Steve tug at his hair for a moment before finally acquiescing, tilting his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. It means so much more, now, Bucky giving in to him, revealing the delicate parts of himself and letting down the guard he holds so close since… Steve tries not to think too hard about the trust it takes, the trust they’ve had to rebuild, mouthing along the wet skin of Bucky’s neck, scraping his teeth along the corner of Bucky’s jaw. Bucky’s fingers twitch at his hips, almost a flinch, and Steve pulls away, just for a second seeking out Bucky’s eyes. It’s – new, still, relearning the cartography of Bucky’s body, tracing along old paths only to be interrupted by new scars, new sounds, finding that some of their oldest, most well-worn passages are closed to him, now, and finding new ones every time.

There’s so much that’s different, now, the Bucky he got back isn’t the one he lost, but he wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it means Bucky doesn’t smile as much, if it means he bites down on Steve’s name when he comes, clenching his teeth around the sounds Steve draws from him like he’s not sure they’re safe outside of his mouth.

Bucky meets his eyes, and he nods, swinging his left arm up to loop around Steve’s neck and dragging him back in, seeking out another kiss. Smiling against Bucky’s lips, Steve’s feet slip along the shower tiles as he takes a step, and then another, finally pressing Bucky against the wall, the spray of water long forgotten behind them, steam filling the small space and making Steve’s head feel light, cloudy like there’s nothing else in the world he could focus on but the feeling of Bucky’s hair twisted around his fingers, the dip of his waist beneath Steve’s palm. 

For an indeterminable moment, it’s like his heartbeat slows, stringing time out longer, seconds becoming minutes and minutes becoming hours lost to the drumming rhythm of the water striking the tiles, Bucky’s gasps getting louder in the spaces between their quickening breaths. Bucky drops his arm, his hands roving over Steve, tracing idle patterns along his chest, drawing the nails of his right hand along Steve’s shoulders and leaving behind stinging pink trails that disappear as quickly as they rise from Steve’s skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake even in the humid air. He never stops moving, slipping his fingertips along Steve’s stomach and then drawing them back again, teasing, and Steve’s so lost in the gentle touches that he doesn’t notice, at first, the second pair of hands spreading along his shoulder blades, the second pair of lips pressing kisses down his spine.

Steve’s breath hitches, a mix of surprise and desire, and Bucky laughs against his cheek, the sharp curve of a smirk blinding in the corner of Steve’s eye, before his peripheral vision is filled with it, with an _identical_ one, two knife-edged grins framed by water-dark hair filling his senses. A second pair of arms wraps around him from behind, another warm body pressed flush against his back, a familiar face – across decades – swimming into view when Steve turns his head, looking into the eyes of the man he fell in love with when he was sixteen, his best friend, his… _Bucky’s_ here, or Bucky like he was, without the deep lines time and bloodshed have carved into his smooth skin, smiling that lopsided, troublemaking grin at him like it’s the most natural thing in the world that he’s _here_ , with _them_.

And Steve’s sure that he’s dreaming now, hell, he _would_ be the kind of guy who folded his clothes in his own dreams, but none of that matters anyway, not when there are four hands tracing patterns on his skin now – three flesh, one smooth, warm metal – two sets of lips pressing kisses everywhere they can reach. Steve tries to focus, pry his eyes open, look ahead, only to find Bucky looking back at him, his back still pressed to the tiled wall and his eyes blown dark as he watches Steve’s face, bringing a hand up to trace metal fingers along the curve of Steve’s jaw.

A sure hand slips down his stomach, no longer teasing, before wrapping around his cock with steady, solid strokes, and Steve’s eyes fall closed again, he has to force himself to look down, to figure out… who, and _of course_ , Bucky had always been one to take what he wanted, before, he’d nearly gotten them into trouble so many times because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, and it seems like now isn’t any different. His other hand is at the back of Steve’s neck, calloused thumb smoothing circles into Steve’s skin, and Steve leans forward, burying his face into the drying tangles of Bucky’s hair, gripping at his shoulders for purchase while his hips rise and fall, trying to meet the rhythm of the man pressed up behind him, his lip catching between his teeth on an moan. It’s just this side of too-slow, perfect and agonizing, and Steve tries to works his hips faster, urge it along, but instead, the hand stills.

Steve’s head darts up, first to look ahead, meeting Bucky’s darkened eyes again, and he doesn’t have to twist around to know the laughing, devious look he sees there is mirrored on the face of the man behind him. It seems like even in his _dreams_ Steve’s still at Bucky’s mercy, like he always is, forever willing to surrender to whatever Bucky’s willing to give him.

Metal fingers smooth down his side, gripping his ass, joined by Bucky’s other hand as he grins at him, spreading him open, and Steve shivers at the feeling of kisses being pressed along his spine again, travelling ever downward over the knobs of bone. There’s an echoing _thunk_ as Bucky’s knees hit the title behind him, leaving a trail of kisses over the dip of Steve’s back, a tongue tracing along the swell of his ass as warm hands travel up his legs, clever fingers sliding along the delicate skin of his inner thighs, chasing the shivers of his muscles ever upward.

Steve gasps, and the sound is met with two identical chuckles, one sending heated breath over sensitive flesh and Steve’s eyes fall closed, the entire room beginning to spiral and sharpen into sensation, everything collapsing into a single point, the feeling of Bucky’s –

+

He wakes with a gasp that becomes a groan, the darkness of their bedroom swimming back into view, the last wisps of warmth leaving Steve behind as he blinks up at the ceiling, his breathing ragged. Steve’s heart is thudding in his chest, his skin pricking, and he lies still for a moment, this head buzzing with burned-in images and sensations and a lingering cloud of lust, the memory of Bucky’s hair caught up in his fist, the… _other_ Bucky’s breath hot against him. Slipping a hand beneath the sheets, Steve skims his palm over his stomach, pressing against his erection and biting down on the hiss that escapes him, resisting the urge to roll his hips, rut against himself to relieve some of the insistent, aching pressure.

Bucky’s asleep beside him, blissfully unaware of the want that’s blazing through Steve’s veins, his back to Steve and his hair spread across the pillow, illuminated by moonlight spilling from the gap between the curtains. Steve turns, sliding over to press his chest against the long expanse of skin at Bucky’s back, dropping a hand to his hip and leaving a gentle kiss on the seam of Bucky’s shoulder, entirely too gentle for how wrecked Steve feels right now. As much as he tries to stop them, his hips move against Bucky’s, slow and rhythmic, and after a few moments Bucky makes a quiet, half-awake noise somewhere between a grunt and a moan.

He looks over his shoulder, his eyes half-open and still fogged with sleep, and Steve can’t forgo the opportunity to surge forward, catching Bucky in a fierce kiss. Steve’s hips can’t still, even as Bucky rolls onto his back, catching on slowly and lazily returning the kiss; Steve presses his palm against the mattress near Bucky’s shoulder, lifting himself above him before settling his weight on Bucky, slotting their hips together. Bucky hums against Steve’s mouth when Steve gives an experimental roll of his hips, pressing their bodies together in a long, slow drag, and Bucky pulls away to look up at him, his eyes sparkling in the dim room.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks, his voice sleep-rough and his breathing already speeding. 

Steve brings a hand to cup Bucky’s jaw, pulls him in for another kiss that becomes a mess of teeth and tongue, groaning into Bucky’s mouth as he finally matches the rhythm of Steve’s hips, his hands coming to grip at Steve’s waist.

“Nothing, just… you,” Steve’s voice is a pant, almost lost as he presses his face to the curve of Bucky’s shoulder. It’s _almost_ enough, the heat sparking between them, and Steve can feel it pooling in the base of his spine; he tries to move faster, his words fracturing into a whine. 

“Wanted you.”

Steve doesn’t have to see to know that Bucky’s grinning, he can feel it against his hair, he can taste it in the charged air between them, and he lets out a series of encouraging noises when Bucky’s hands travel downward, finally slipping between them and pushing away the fabric still separating them. Shifting his hips up, Steve tries to help, making room for Bucky’s hands even though the sudden loss of friction nearly draws another whine from him. He sinks his teeth into Bucky’s shoulder, impatient in trying to press them together again, and Bucky complies, bringing his right hand up and licking the palm before taking them both in the circle of his grip and beginning to stroke.

It’s amazing, incredible relief and an unbearable build of delicious pressure. Steve’s hips begin to move again, thrusting into Bucky’s grip, the friction of their cocks together enough to send his vision whiting out around the edges, and it’s over almost embarrassingly soon, pleasure rocketing down his spine and then he’s spilling over Bucky’s hand and stomach, shouting into his hair. Bucky follows soon after, biting off Steve’s name like he always does, now, but Steve can feel the deep rattle of his gasp, the twitch of metal fingers against his hip, and it’s enough.

They lie crushed together for a few moments longer, breathing against one another’s lips, until Bucky shifts to reach for his long-discarded t-shirt, cleaning them up quickly. He blinks up at Steve again, half-asleep and plaint, his smile melting into something gentle and fond, and strokes Steve’s cheek while he stifles a yawn.

“So, are you going to tell me what this was about…?”

Steve settles against Bucky’s side, his muscles still shaking in the last of the aftershocks, and folds his hands atop Bucky’s shoulder, resting his chin on them to look at Bucky.

“Had a dream,” Steve whispers, feeling the pull of sleep himself.

Bucky’s eyes go wider for a just second, until his gathering fatigue pulls them nearly closed again. “’Bout me, I hope.”

Steve shifts again, getting comfortable, resting his head against Bucky’s chest. “No, it was about General Phillips, you jerk. Now go back to sleep.”

Another yawn, so deep in Bucky’s chest Steve can feel it before it reaches the air, and Steve can’t help but let loose with one of his own. Bucky’s laugh is quiet, his hand coming to card through Steve’s hair.

“Good night to you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> loosely inspired by [this photo](http://25.media.tumblr.com/8a7f74c9ce91ffd12b3754bf7d96dedf/tumblr_mo1hy2Wd741qk6ramo1_500.jpg) of Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans and their stunt doubles for _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ and gloriously enabled by flash0flight, who let me basically yell 'BUT WHAT IF MULTIPLE BUCKYS' for an hour and then demanded fic in return.
> 
> title from Ke$ha's "Die Young"; don't judge me.


End file.
